These Games We Play
by amor-remanet
Summary: Remus is tired of just flirting, and Sirius smells like Quidditch. SLASH, RLSB.


**Disclaimer: **None of these wonderful characters are mine, but I won't hurt them and I'll put them right back where I found them. 

**A/N: **Written for Day 13 of LJ's Tell Me A Kiss challenge; the prompt was an excerpt from a song in Disney's _Mulan_.

Remus leans casually against the wall outside the Gryffindor Quidditch locker rooms, waiting patiently for Sirius. James and the rest of the team have already left, blathering loudly about how they "showed those Slytherin gits." Going on precedent, Remus takes that to mean that Gryffindor's Quidditch team has started the season on a good foot, which makes everything that much easier for him, since he won't have to listen to James go into Chaser Mode and sulk, Sirius go into Beater Mode and gripe, and Peter go into Fan-Boy Mode and whine. Try as he might, he doesn't quite understand the powerful effect on Quidditch on the Average Adolescent Male Wizard, though he has seriously considered going about finding an answer as a scientist would: obtain and record qualitative, in the field data about Subject A's gratuitous enthusiasm, Subject B's need to win, and Subject C's outrage at losing due to devotion to Subject A. Their names, of course, will be kept secret…but their exploits and obsession shall be recorded for posterity.

Actually…that could be brilliant fun, and the first Hogsmeade weekend is coming up; he'll just have to look into a good, cheap journal just for this, since all his other ones are either full or in use for other things. Oh yes, this will be wonderful. And the best part is that James, Sirius, and Peter will have no idea that he's keeping a record of their most amusing obsession since…anything, really. Having them around is amazing, after all, but…sometimes he needs to have a laugh that they don't get, without it being about something he's reading, as that just makes them look ignorant, which they're really not. They enjoy acting like it, though he doesn't understand this either. There's a lot about them that he Just Doesn't Get, but surprises keep everything from getting too stagnant? After all: routine is nice; stagnancy is boring; boring is bad. Granted, things can hardly be _boring_ when two of your best mates are James Potter and Sirius Black – and Remus is incredibly thankful for this.

He's also thankful for the sudden presence of a strong hand on his shoulders and two chapped lips by his ear.

"Was beginning to think you weren't coming, Moony," Sirius whispers like he's grinning.

"Well, the door closed when everyone else left," Remus explains, chuckling a little. "And I didn't know the password…and I thought we'd just meet in the corridor."

"Locker room's got more privacy, but-"

"But since when does Sirius Black care about privacy?"

"Exactly."

Like it's nothing, Sirius saunters around to Remus's front and places his arms delicately around the prefect's waist, nuzzling his neck just enough to tease and tantalize, but not fully deliver. Remus moves to reciprocate this by stroking the space between Sirius's chin and neck (it makes him sigh lustfully, and it makes Padfoot's leg twitch)…until he notices the curling, distinctive smell of sweat and Quidditch; he opts to put his arms around Sirius's neck instead. The sweat stench is less severe there. Apparently, Sirius has taken off his Quidditch Robes, but hasn't bloody showered. Just like him…and Remus can handle it for now. Sirius has smelled worse, like after the time in third year when he and James surreptitiously obtained the password to the Slytherin Common Room and set off three bags of Dungbombs. They had detention with McGonagall for two weeks, and, even worse, they _smelled_ like the damn things even after Remus made them shower six times in two days. By the third day, the smell finally left, though the same couldn't be said for the Slytherins.

Softly, Sirius brings his lips close to Remus's face, but pushes some stray hair out of his face instead. Damn it, why is he playing around like this?

"How'd the match go?" Remus inquires, trying to remain pleasant, even though Sirius's teasing is working.

"We beat 'em 270 to sixty," Sirius replies. That note of lust in his voice is definitely on purpose. "And I got Malfoy in the face with a bludger, completely on accident, mind you."

"Naturally. I'm sure you flew brilliantly too."

"Moony, how many times do Prongs and I have to tell you? Chasers and Seekers do the brilliant flying, Keepers guard the goals, and Beaters hit things."

"I know…but you really do fly well."

"Not as good as James."

"Yeah, but James is a prat when he has a broomstick, _and_ he's smaller than you."

"You should've seen him today though; he got most of the goals."

"I couldn't, remember? Fall asleep in Defense, do detention."

"What'd you have to do today?"

"Re-alphabetize her books. Merlin, it was boring…at least it went quickly."

"Still…she could've let you come see the match. Or you could just not sleep in class."

"Maybe I wouldn't sleep in class if _some_ people did their own homework for once." Remus sticks out his tongue playfully; Sirius laughs and jokingly tries to grab it.

"But you're better at making up garbage for Divination-"

"Well, you're better at Quidditch."

"Yeah, well, you've got more brains."

"But it takes a lot to be good at Quidditch: you need to be fast, and strong, and well-coordinated-"

"And it takes some bloody good brains to get Arithmancy, and a smarter wizard to _like_ it."

"Padfoot," Remus whispers, suddenly sober. "When are we going to cut this out?"

Sirius blinks, charmingly befuddled. "…I don't understand."

"When are you going to quit seducing me and get it on with?"

"…I have too much respect for you to stick my hand in your trousers on the first date?"

Although, on the outside, he merely stares blankly at Sirius, internally, Remus narrows and rolls his eyes. Someone this brilliant cannot possibly be this daft, especially when he does almost none of his own homework (Potions is probably the only class Remus doesn't do the work for him in) but still gets top marks. Sighing, Remus decides to _show_ what he means, rather than just tell: with gentle firmness, he raises himself – standing on his toes, since Sirius is just a few inches taller – and presses his lips to Sirius. Finally, Sirius gets the idea and he slides his mouth open, welcoming Remus with the taste of bacon, pumpkin juice, and too much water. Remus is fully aware that he himself tastes like toothpaste and the remnants of Chocolate Frogs, but Sirius and his tongue don't appear to mind, so it must not be that important.

When they slide apart for breath, Sirius chuckles, "Always full of surprises, aren't you, Moony?"

"I have to be," Remus jokes, "or else you might get bored. And…you do plan on bathing, before we do that again, right?"

"Whatever you say, Moony. Whatever you say."


End file.
